


I'd Take A Bullet (For You)

by AlannaofRoses



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Dick gets shot, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Dick Grayson, as a civilian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 05:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20942789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlannaofRoses/pseuds/AlannaofRoses
Summary: A Wayne Enterprises event goes horribly wrong, and Dick is rushed to the hospital. Jason tries to pick up the pieces and comfort his younger brothers, whom Dick was protecting. Being shot at as civilians rattles them all.





	I'd Take A Bullet (For You)

Jason glanced idly at the TV when he saw the Wayne Enterprises logo flash onscreen. He’d forgotten about the press conference today. Last night on patrol Tim had been all worked up about it. Bruce had been called away unexpectedly, and as his heir, the reveal of their latest product had fallen on Tim’s shoulders. Jason had to admit to some curiosity over how the babybird was going to handle it. 

The on-stage presenter made some comments about the company’s latest charitable contributions, gave a few minor Wayne Tech updates, and then thanked everyone for attending.

“As many of you know,” he continued, “our very own Bruce Wayne was called out of the country on unavoidable business. However, to present in his place, we are honored to be hosting his sons. Please welcome Richard Grayson-Wayne, Damian Wayne, and Timothy Drake-Wayne to the stage.”

Jason raised a brow in surprise as, sure enough, all three of his legally alive brothers trotted onto the stage. He wondered if Tim had asked or if Dick had offered. Mostly, he wondered what exactly they had promised Damian to get him to attend. It was no secret the youngest Wayne hated everything to do with their public personas. 

The oldest and youngest of the Wayne boys smiled and waved before seating themselves behind the podium. Tim made his way to the presenter, who gracefully ceded the mic.

“Thank you.” Tim addressed the crowd. “My brothers and I are honored to be here for the release of this great new innovation from Wayne Tech. This product is the culmination of years of hard work and dedication from our employees, and we wish to thank them all for their contributions to this project.”

Tim continued his speech, listing off a few names and starting on some techno-babble, but Jason tuned him out. He watched the stage instead, glancing over the project managers, big-wigs, and presenters seated there. Everyone seemed attentive and courteous, even though it was Tim and not Bruce speaking, and Jason felt a strange pride watching him. His replacement had really grown up over the past few years, and Jason was glad he wasn’t the only one who seemed to notice.

Even Damian seemed at least marginally interested. Dick, next to him, was grinning like a loon as he watched the crowd listening intently to his little brother. Jason snorted and reached for the remote to change the channel. 

Dick froze suddenly, his smile dropping. Jason sat up straight as he watched his older brother’s eyes track something over Tim’s shoulder.

Later, Jason would replay everything in horrifying slow-motion.

Dick stood abruptly, using his leg to sweep Damian’s chair from under him, sending the boy sprawling backwards, the seat between Damian and the audience. Within the same motion, Dick spun and leapt at the still talking Tim. Dick was already in the air as the audience gasped. Tim stuttered to a halt. A shot rang out in the echoing auditorium. Dick slammed into Tim, taking them both to the floor.

Jason leapt to his feet, infuriatingly far from his endangered family. He watched helplessly as the camera crews tried to get a good view of the stage around the panicking, scattering crowd. 

Damian was yelling something, pointing towards the back of the room. Police and security rushed around trying to prevent further injury. Tim and Dick were still. A pool of red began to spread beneath them.

Jason clenched his fists, his eyes burning with helpless fury. 

His phone rang.

Without taking his eyes off the TV, begging his brothers to move, to be alive, Jason scooped up the mobile device.

“What?” He snapped as the call clicked on.

“Jason.” Bruce sounded wrecked.

“I don’t know.” Jason answered the unspoken plea. “I’m watching it on TV.”

Bruce swallowed, audible through the speaker. “Who Jason? The radio broadcast cut off after the shot.”

“I don’t know Bruce. Not Damian, he’s fine. Tim and… Tim and Dick are down. There’s blood, but I don’t know yet.”

“I’m flying back right now Jay. Can you get to the hospital? You’re still on Dick’s list.”

“Yeah, I can do that. I…” Jason cut off, nearly dropping the phone as the camera focused in on the stage.

“Jason?”

Jason watched Tim extract himself from under Dick, his face bloodless. Damian rushed towards him, and the two knelt in a growing puddle of red, Tim shoving his hands against Dick’s chest.

Damian was screaming at someone Jason couldn’t see, and a moment later two paramedics rushed onto the stage, coaxing Tim away from Dick as they got to work. Tim stumbled back, and Damian steadied him with a gentle hand, the two standing shoulder to shoulder as they stood over their eldest brother.

“Jason?!”

“It’s Dick.” Jason’s voice was a thread.

Jason barely remembered hanging up on Bruce. He barely remember the drive to the hospital. He left his motorcycle parked haphazardly in the lot, hurrying into the recycled air of Gotham General. News vans were already scattered around the building, the blood-thirsty reporters held at bay by the flashing lights of police cars. 

Jason was glad once again that he was legally dead, as he was easily able to slip past the chaos and make his way towards the private ward. For a moment, he worried the nurses would turn him away.

And then he spotted Tim and Damian standing awkwardly in the hallway and all thoughts of protocol went out of Jason’s head as he spotted the drying blood still clinging to Tim’s hands and arms. 

Damian, pale-faced and shaking, spotted him first. His eyes widened in relieved recognition that Jason hardly felt he deserved. Dick was the older brother, good at comforting and taking charge. Jason felt woefully out of his depth here, but he supposed that duty fell to him now. So he channeled the Golden Boy the only way he knew how, reaching for both his little brothers and pulling them into his chest.

Damian clung to him, the normally aloof child utterly wrecked by his favorite brother’s injury. Tim barely acknowledged him, his red-stained arms still at his side. Jason decided to address that first.

“Hey Timbo.” He said softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up, buddy.”

Tim followed him without resistance, Damian trailing behind as they made for the restroom.

Jason turned on the tap, getting the water comfortably warm before guiding Tim’s hands under the spray. He focused deliberately on every line and crease of palm to keep himself grounded. There was a lot of blood caked into Tim’s hands.

Damian wouldn’t look at the dull pink water as it swirled down the drain. Tim seemed unable to look away. Jason’s chest ached for both of them.

So he started to talk.

About nothing. About everything. Alfred’s best recipes. The latest ball game Roy had taken Lian to. Clark’s latest article on Lex Luthor. Nothing about vigilantes, nothing about the League. Just simple, normal stuff. Because that’s what they were in this moment. Normal people struck by a horrific act of violence.

That made it harder, in a way. They all expected Nightwing to get injured. It happened. Their night jobs were dangerous, and sometimes the bad guys came out on top. But Dick Grayson was different. They’d all heard the stories of course. The Boy Hostage and all. Dick’s first years with Bruce had been marked by kidnapping after ransom demand after hostage situation. But once it became obvious that Bruce Wayne didn’t treat with threats to his ward- and in fact tended to send the Batman after the perpetrators- most criminals had given up on that avenue to Bruce’s fortune.

Sure, all of them had been kidnapped once or twice as Waynes, but they were cushy nabbings respectively.

None of them had been hurt, truly, seriously hurt, in their public personas. Not even when Dick was a police officer. 

Now Dick Grayson might be dying, and his brothers were lost.

“It’s my fault.”

Jason looked down at Tim. “What?”

“That bullet was aimed at me. Dick came out of nowhere. It was supposed to be me.” Tim’s lip trembled.

Jason grabbed him by the chin, forcing his younger brother to look at him. “Listen to me, Timbo. The only person at fault for what happened to Dick is the psycho who shot up a press event. And you know damn well Dick Grayson is a self-sacrificing idiot.”

A tear slid down Tim’s cheek.

“He will always step in to take a bullet for you if he can, Timbo. He can’t help it. He loves you.”

Jason was just about at the limit of his ability to comfort, but it seemed to be enough. Tim burst into tears and threw his arms around Jason’s waist. Jason rocked slightly, humming, and let Tim cry himself out. Damian was sniffling awkwardly in the corner, but Jason knew he’d be more likely to get a knife to the gut than a hug if he tried to step in there. He’d let Dick take care of the baby brat when he woke up.

Tim finally pulled away, wiping his eyes. Jason wet a lump of paper towel and handed it to the younger boy. Once everyone had put themselves back together, the three trooped back out into the waiting room.

Jason tucked Tim and Damian on chairs in a corner and took up a spot leaning against a wall just steps from them. Damian’s feet swung back and forth a good foot off the ground and Jason felt a pang in his chest. Damian was just a kid. Tim wasn’t even old enough to drink. And someone had shot at them today. Not Robin and Red Robin, not the young heroes who put their lives on the line for the city, but Tim Drake-Wayne and Damian Wayne. Jason gritted his teeth and swallowed back the green haze.

“Family of Richard Grayson.”

The nurse barely needed to make the announcement, already looking their way. Jason was pretty sure most of the city had heard that the famous Waynes had been involved in a shooting today.

Jason gave his younger brothers a quick ‘stay here’ gesture and went to the nurse, pulling her just out of earshot of the boys but still where Jason could keep a careful eye on them.

“How is he?”

The nurse had obviously checked Dick’s records and seen ‘Todd Peterson’ listed, because she gave him the info without fanfare. “Mr. Grayson was very lucky. The bullet hit his liver and caused a pretty big bleed, but we were able to stabilize him without issue and replenish some of the blood he lost. He’ll be tired and weak for some time, but he is expected to recover fully.”

Jason fought the urge to sag against the wall. “Thank you. Can we see him?”

The nurse pursed her lips a moment, glancing at the younger boys. “Well, the rule is two generally, but I think in this case we can make an exception.”

Jason gave her a smile in thanks and waved the boys over. Tim and Damian slipped out of their seats and came up on either side of him, hopeful looks on their drawn faces.

“This way.” The nurse led the down one of the hallways to a door identical to every other. “Alright boys,” she said gently, “he’s hooked up to a lot of machines right now, but don’t be too worried, it looks a lot worse than it is.”

They all nodded solemnly, as if they weren’t intimately familiar with the ins and outs of medical technology. The nurse smiled encouragingly and pushed the door open.

Jason took a deep breath and crossed the threshold, his younger brothers right on his heels. 

Dick lay still and pale in the bed. Various machines tethered him down, the steady beep of his vitals comforting in an eerie way. Like every time that Dick was unconcious from injury, Jason was struck by the absolute wrongness of a still and silent Dick Grayson.

Tim made a small sound of anguish and moved to the bed, picking up Dick’s limp hand and cradling it. Jason glanced behind him for Damian, surprised the kid had let Tim beat him to his favorite brother. But Damian seemed frozen, white-faced with horror.

“Hey baby bat,” Jason murmured, “you okay? You heard the nurse, Dickface is gonna be fine.”

“I should have seen it.”

“Seen what buddy?”

“The gun.”

“What?” Jason tugged Damian into the room and guided him into a chair, kneeling in front of him. “What do you mean you should have seen the gun?”

“I am a trained assassin, Todd.” Damian snapped. “I should have been able to spot the threat with plenty of time to spare. Instead I was complacent and I let Dick get shot.”

This time Jason did groan, because seriously? He was going to have a long conversation with Bruce Wayne about his self-loathing and the way it was rubbing off on his kids cause damn. “Dami, kiddo, you can’t prepare for everything. Even Bruce knows that. I told Tim earlier, and I’m telling you now, Dick getting shot is not your fault. The psycho who decided to open fire at a public event is the only one on the hook for this.”

“I argued with him this morning. I did not want to go and I said awful things.” Damian was blinking too fast. 

Jason had not signed up for this. “Damian. If Dick was gonna take whatever you said to heart, he would have taken offence the first time you told him he was an idiot. He knows you kiddo. Better than maybe anyone else. And when he wakes up he’ll tell you the same thing, okay?”

Damian sniffled, nodding.

“Okay.” Jason stood, his knees cracking as he unfolded. “Now, go hold Dick’s hand and do your sappy comforting stuff.”

Damian gave him a look of pure loathing but slid off the chair and joined Tim at Dick’s side.

Jason took up a position against the wall just inside the door and pulled out his phone.

‘Just landed. ETA 30 minutes.’ Bruce had sent the text while Jason had been talking to the nurse, so he’d be storming in any minute now. Hopefully Alfred, who’d been on the trip as well, would accompany him. 

Sure enough, a commotion began outside. Tim glanced up at Jason worriedly. Jason shook his head gently and nodded to Dick before slipping out the door and closing it firmly behind him.

At the far end of the corridor, he spotted Bruce and Alfred powerwalking towards them, trailed by several determined reporters that security were trying to hold back. 

“Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne!”

“Was the bullet meant for you, Mr. Wayne?”

“Comment on the injury to your oldest son, Mr. Wayne?”

“Mr. Wayne!”

Bruce was tight-lipped and fuming quietly when they reached Jason. Jason glared down the one reporter who was still trying to get her story, and she quailed under his intimidating gaze.

“How is he?” Alfred asked quietly.

“He’ll live, Alfie.” Jason reassured. “Come on. He’s not awake yet, but they said it shouldn’t take long.”

The three of them entered the room quickly, careful not to open the door too wide, lest a cameraman try for a lucky shot. Tim and Damian looked up hopefully as they saw their new visitors. 

Bruce had eyes only for the still figure on the bed, going straight to Dick and brushing a huge, calloused hand through the dark curls.

Alfred opened his arms and let Tim press close, Damian standing just close enough to brush against them, which Jason knew was about the limit of what Damian allowed from anyone who wasn’t Dick, or occasionally Bruce. 

“Come now, boys.” Alfred murmured to Tim and Damian. “Let’s go get some food in you. It will help combat the shock.” The butler cast a glance at Jason, but Jason shook his head. Alfred nodded and guided the boys out. 

Jason claimed the chair on the other side of the bed from Bruce. “Any news on the shooter?” Jason asked, knowing Bruce would have been monitoring the situation. 

“They caught him.” Bruce’s voice was low with satisfaction. “Gordon is processing him personally.”

Jason got a sudden, incredibly pleasing mental image of what Gordon was doing to the man who had shot his favorite Wayne kid right now. He was so lost in the fantasy he almost missed it when Dick’s hand twitched.

“Bruce!” Jason stood, leaning over the bed.

“Hey chum.” Bruce said quietly, running his hand through the dark hair again. “Easy, Dick. Welcome back.”

“Mmmm.” Dick blinked tiredly at them.

“They dosed you up, Dickie.” Jason told him. Bruce had adjusted the amount of drugs pumping into Dick’s system as soon as he’d had a chance, but Dick was probably still really high right now. The amount of painkillers rated by a pampered Wayne was a much different dose than Alfred allowed the injured Nightwing. They all knew better than to get hooked on them.

“Tim? Dami?” Dick croaked.

Bruce grabbed a cup of water and held the straw to Dick’s lips. “They’re fine, chum. You protected them.”

“Thasss good.” Dick slurred, already fading again.

Jason leaned down close to his ear. “We are going to talk about how much of an idiot you are later, got that Wing?” 

Dick just gave him a dopey smile. “Knew you… loved me Jay.” Blue eyes fluttered closed.

Jason grumbled and went back to his chair. His heart felt light for the first time since that gunshot had rang out. Dick would be just fine.


End file.
